


Under Cloud and Under Star

by WednesdaysDaughter



Series: To Home Afar [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Feels, Fix-It, Gen, M/M, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Presumed Dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:13:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28558161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WednesdaysDaughter/pseuds/WednesdaysDaughter
Summary: “Erebor owes Bilbo a great debt for more than we can ever express Master Bard and his loss will be felt by all who call these halls home.”A cool breeze rushes past just then as if reacting to Fili’s words. Braids are pushed around playfully, beads clinking together in rhythm, and fresh air fills the stale corridors bringing with it life and hope to the ghosts longing for reprieve. Bard is not sure what awaits a hobbit after their earthly bodies retire, but he is certain it is warm and peaceful. It is what he hopes awaits the men in Lake-town and the dwarves standing before him battered and beaten by loss.“Then the world truly is lesser for his passing.”
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Series: To Home Afar [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092416
Comments: 18
Kudos: 135





	Under Cloud and Under Star

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I am writing Hobbit fic in the year of our Lord 2021.... and it feels so good. 
> 
> Long story short, I haven't been back to Middle Earth since late 2015. I mean, I haven't read fic or watched the movies, and I could barely could stand to listen to the score after my dad died. Middle Earth was our thing.... and after the shit-show that was 2020 I decided it was time. Welllll I woke up Jan 1st with a migraine and decided to lay in bed, recovering, as I watched LoTR and it was exactly what the universe ordered. 
> 
> So I'm back! I haven't written anything since March last year and I was mainly dialed into Witcher (which I have 3 fic ideas for those guys fear not)
> 
> Hope this fic is worth the wait for anyone who has read my previous Hobbit stuff!

“ _There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something._  
_You certainly usually find something if you look, but  
__it is not always quite the something you were after_.”

“Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror, King under the Mountain has passed into the halls of his forebears.”

A hush falls over the bloodied field as men, elves, and dwarves absorb Fili’s words. Steel laces his spine as he stands resolute and without aid though his wounds continue to bleed, dripping onto cold stone like precious rubies. The dirtied bandage wrapped around his right eye does little to lessen his daunting presence, if anything it lends to the striking picture he paints against the gray mountain. Whispers flutter on crippled wings from person to person until Dwalin’s gruff voice demands silence while Erebor’s new king forges on.

“In accordance with my uncle’s last command before his valiant charge into battle, the men of Lake-town will receive their promised gold and then some so they might rebuild. The white gems will be returned to the elves as a gesture of a peace that once existed between our people.”

Resistance is expected, but perhaps it is the grief in his voice that stays the naysayers until a respectable amount of time has passed.

“Well met King Fili,” Bard’s voice rises above the throng of murmurs, “we eagerly accept your gold and in return offer any food we can spare.”

“And we offer healers,” Thranduil seconds though he does not see the need to thank the dwarves for returning what was rightfully his to begin with. Fili’s nod is curt and is words sharper still as he dispatches his kin with the promised treasures that once lived in Erebor’s halls.

“If you’ll excuse us, we have a King to put to rest – bury your dead and let these lands see greenery once more.”

The company of Thorin Oakenshield barricade themselves in the stone halls of their ancestors and lay their leader to rest. When morning breaks upon the mountain Bard and Thranduil stand with tentative treaties in hand and questions demanding the answers they did not design to ask in the midst of such overwhelming grief.

“How fairs your brother?”

Fili lifts his eyes from the fragile parchment in his hands and graces Bard with a tentative smile, “Far better now since Elven healers have seen to him. I dare say my brother will be walking these halls in a fortnight, perhaps sooner.”

“That is good news indeed.”

Continued pleasantries’ are exchanged until Thranduil can hold his tongue no longer, “Unless my eyes have suddenly failed me I do not see your hobbit friend. Pray tell where has he vanished to?”

Bard jolts at the realization he has not seen Bilbo Baggins since that night before the great clash of armies and his gut twists at the way Fili’s face falls into shadow. The other dwarves bow their heads and that is answer enough for Thranduil.

“Master Baggins risked his life for my brother and I,” Fili begins taking a moment to clear his throat when his voice fails him, “and though wounded he continued onward to aid my uncle.”

“Surely you jest, what good could such a small creature do in battle?” Bard ponders aloud and steps back instinctively at the fierce glare Fili levels at him.

“Bilbo was no timid creature Master Bard,” Balin spoke from Fili’s left while placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to soothe the outrage.

“He faced trolls and spiders!” Ori chimed in, voice thick with unshed tears.

“Leapt into fire he did and made himself invisible to the most discerning of eyes,” said Bofur with his hat pressed to his trembling chest.

Nori looked past Bard and Thranduil as if reliving a memory, “That small creature taunted a dragon with riddles and made all thieves look like fumbling pickpockets.”

There was pride in his voice as if the theft of the Arkenstone was something to be admired instead of reproved. Bifur’s husky Khuzdul went untranslated, but the hoarse chuckles pulled from the company’s twisted lips echoed in the deepest depths of Erebor; paying homage to an old friend.

“Aye,” Dwalin mourned, “our hobbit faced the Pale Orc twice and the bastard’s twisted son in hopes of preserving the line of Durin.”

“And preserve it he did.”

The grudging respect in Thranduil’s voice makes Fili’s eyes crinkle and a rumble of satisfaction runs through the company when Bard inclines his head – a silent admission of his own understanding.

“Erebor owes Bilbo a great debt for more than we can ever express Master Bard and his loss will be felt by all who call these halls home.”

A cool breeze rushes past just then as if reacting to Fili’s words. Braids are pushed around playfully, beads clinking together in rhythm, and fresh air fills the stale corridors bringing with it life and hope to the ghosts longing for reprieve. Bard is not sure what awaits a hobbit after their earthly bodies retire, but he is certain it is warm and peaceful.

It is what he hopes awaits the men in Lake-town and the dwarves standing before him battered and beaten by loss.

“Then the world truly is lesser for his passing.”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Months pass and snow blankets the mountain before grass can grow again.

Once spring breaks visitors of the lonely mountain are stunned by the sight of bronze pots filled with plants which line the halls as far as the eye can see. Carts of dirt and fertilizer find their way through Erebor to balconies and outcroppings where the sun shines dutifully through the thick clouds.

When pressed, the dwarves from the Blue Mountains will shrug and guide the curious men and elves to the original company who will smile wistfully at their questions.

“We need herbs for healing,” says Oin.

“We need tomatoes for eating,” says Bombur.

“We need flowers for remembering,” says Ori.

No one thinks to ask what, or who, requires remembrance when there are reminders in the collapsed corridors and forgotten forges. Bones are cleared from rubble and given proper burials with each passing day until the dead are finally laid to rest nearly a year after Erebor was reclaimed. Ale runs freely and songs are sung loudly both in and outside of the mountain where the land has begun to heal. Fireworks from Lake-town fill the starry sky with blues and greens that rival the purest gems slumbering deep within the stone. 

Dwarves from across Middle Earth come to pay their respects and bask in the glow of their restored domain: In their company, a wizard.

“Gandalf,” Fili exclaims stepping down from the throne to greet him, “I had hoped you’d be here for the celebration!”

“I would not miss the mirth of the dwarves on this auspicious day.”

There is a playful lit in Gandalf’s voice which conspires Fili’s own tone as he leads the wizard away from prying eyes to where Kili and the others feast merrily. A rowdy rendition of ‘Blunt the Knives’ greets them as they enter the crowded kitchen. Plates and forks fly in time with thunderous beating on the ground; a great circle of dwarves whose joy outshines the very stars.

At their center, two ghosts: Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield, respectively, and very much alive.

“Uncles!”

Thorin is nearly knocked off his feet by Fili’s embrace, Bilbo reaching out to steady him only to be roped into the firm embrace. The circle closes in and Gandalf watches, chuckling around his pipe as the company is reunited.

Come morning, the wizard will help the fallen heroes’ spirit away on the back of eagles – returning west to The Shire, but for now he lets the mountain shield its defenders whose eyes shine in the luminous candlelight. Sparing a second, he wards the door with a light befuddlement and turns to regale Ori’s inquisitive nature.

“Your garden is thriving,” says Dori and Bilbo laughs.

“Your kingdom is thriving,” says Kili and Thorin weeps.

“I am so proud of you,” Thorin says, pressing his forehead against his sister-sons’ until neither can see beyond their tears.

“I miss you all very much,” Bilbo says, voice catching in his throat as Dwalin gently knocks their heads together.

Smoke fills the room as pipes are lit and tales are traded well into the night. Lady Dis comes to collect Fili once his absence cannot be further ignored and her reunion with Thorin is more threats than tears when she sees he hasn’t made an ‘honest husband out of the hobbit’ yet. This causes a fresh wave of teasing until Bilbo flushes from the tips of his ears down to his toes.

“We’re abiding by both customs, thank you very much. Besides, we could hardly get married without you lot so if you happen to find yourselves free – or as free as a King can be,” he says to Fili, “come next spring then I suppose Bag End could withstand a company of dwarves once more.”

The resulting reply nearly deafens poor Bilbo and he is once more pulled into several embraces which threaten to crack a rib or two. Gandalf is loath to break up the festivities, but he looks to Thorin who nods and intertwines his fingers with Bilbo’s.

“Come ghivashel.”

When asked about the anniversary of Smaug’s defeat, several dwarven guards will push the drunken visions of specters into the back of their minds. Men walking home from the taverns come sunrise will recall the cries of eagles, but will dismiss them as rusted hinges on heavy doors. Elves with kin to the west will scoff at the tales of a mad hobbit and his foreign love with locks the darkest black, threaded with mithril grey.

Months pass and vibrant grassy hills watch a company of dwarves and their king set out west, with different excuses on their wily tongues.

“To keep our skills sharp,” says Gloin.

“To peddle our wears,” says Bofur.

“To be with family again,” says Fili.

And they were.

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all ever notices that Tolkien didn't have a set way of capitalization for species? Cause I sure did. Man I think I fretted more over when/if to capitalize dwarves/elves/etc more than the plot itself. Oh well, any thoughts? (wait, did I even capitalize them once.... oh boy)  
> 
> 
> I've already started on the 2nd fic so I don't imagine it'll be a long wait. It's absolutely going to be from Bilbo and Thorin's POV cause I know you're curious. 
> 
> I had so much fun dipping my toes back in the water; it's good to be home. I'm wishing all of you who read this a fantastic 2021; I for one plan on making the most of it whether it's writing, painting, cross-stitching, killing feral ghouls, or just generally learning more about how to love & inspire myself. 
> 
> I hope my words bring comfort: I hope you all are happy. Take care of yourselves out there~


End file.
